


The Last Acts of Tuuri Hotakainen

by Lueley



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/M, Guardian Angels, M/M, Tuuri is literally an angel anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lueley/pseuds/Lueley
Summary: At the end of Tuuri's life, she found herself wishing she'd had a guardian angel looking out for her. That's why, when in the afterlife she is offered the chance to become one, she promises she'll be there when her friends need her the most.A story about helping old friends, the unpredictability of life, and the butterfly effect.
Relationships: Lalli Hotakainen/Emil Västerström, Sigrun Eide/Mikkel Madsen
Comments: 27
Kudos: 40





	1. A Promise

The first thing Tuuri became aware of was the dark.

It enveloped her completely. On all sides, Tuuri felt the darkness: the jet walls of stone reaching endlessly upwards; the inky waters of the river below.

Yes, a river- a calm one, silent except for the gentle lapping of oars on water and the soft trickling of some stream far off behind her. The young, tragically young, Finn jerked upright into a sitting position as she fully came-to. The white-cloaked woman ferrying the boat turned back to look at Tuuri, smiling softly.

“Welcome,” she spoke gently. “Do you know where you are?”

Tuuri did not need to be told. This place was a knowledge held in the hearts of every Finn since the day of their birth. The welcoming darkness, the peaceful quiet… Tuuri gazed with understanding at the river’s dark waters, catching her reflection: Tuuri was wearing a kerchief and simple tunic, similar to the clothes her family had worn in Saimaa. Moreover, around her shoulders was draped a broad, thick-tufted fur cloak- one that Tuuri immediately recognised as that which Onni had said Finnish mages wore in their dreams. A soul’s clothing.

“Tuonela,” Tuuri answered the ferrywoman after a long silence. “I’m in Tuonela.”

So, she was really was dead.

“The kingdom of my father,” the kind young woman smiled- she had an innocent charm to her, being younger than Tuuri, and possibly even shorter. The memories of childhood stories and mythology lessons with Grandma came flooding back.

“You’re the daughter of Tuoni… the ferrywoman,” Tuuri breathed. She was still capable of amazement, despite how utterly, utterly tired she felt.

“And you are Tuuri Hotakainen,” the ferrywoman replied playfully. “There’s been a great deal of interest in you, you know. You travelled quite the distance with the swan. Further away than anyone we’ve had in years,” she continued, gesturing vaguely to the crimson bird now gliding tranquilly past them down the river.

Before Tuuri was given a chance to explain herself, a sudden ringing pierced her ears. Spirit-Tuuri winced.

“Don’t mind the ringing. Your family are calling to you.”

On the quickly nearing shore, shadowy figures had begun to gather on the ridge above the water’s edge. At first, Tuuri wondered if they were the same sort of spirit that Reynir and her cousin had seen, but then with a twist of her heart she realised the shadowy forms were… familiar. Recognition bloomed within her heart, and happy tears began to fall from Tuuri’s now-lifeless eyes. Waiting for her on the beach, arms outstretched to welcome her back to them, stood Tuuri’s family. Her grandmother, her aunt and uncle… her parents.

By the time Tuuri and reached the shore, the young Finn was overwhelmed with joy. With a hurried and grateful thanks to the ferrywoman, Tuuri sprinted as fast as her legs could take her up the pebbly slope of the river’s shore, arms reached out for her family. She met the deceased members of the Hotakainens in a frenzied embrace, first gripping her long-yearned for relatives tightly, then relaxing into their spectral arms, as Tuonela’s cool, soporific breeze lulled her back into a sleepy state of calm. Now Tuuri finally understood why it was called a _“Resting Place”_ , she thought to herself, a deep peace beginning to come over her. Her mother clasped Tuuri securely in her arms and stroked her hair lovingly, just as she had done when Tuuri was a young child.

Tuuri watched as the ethereal form of her Grandma turned away from the river, motioning softly for the rest of the family to follow. A tender hand on Tuuri’s forearm began to guide her, and quiet whisper in her ear, so as not to disturb the sleeping, told her she would be taken to her final place of rest. Tuuri’s new place amongst her family deep in Tuoni’s silent, peaceful realm.

But something wasn’t right- no- something she’d forgotten… a wish, made in her dying moments, echoed in her ears.

No sooner had Tuuri remembered this, however, when a bright white light illuminated her vision, and a rich, melodic voice sounded out from behind her.

“Tuuri, of the Hotakainen family. You arrive at last.”

Tuuri span around to face the source of her voice. A woman in regal robes, who Tuuri could only guess the identity of. A woman she’d only heard of in myths, and legends, and Grandma’s stories. A woman named Tuonetar, lady of the dead.

“You have come from far away, lands from which we have not received in many years,” the woman in white continued. “The Silent World, as the living now call it.”

Tuuri nodded dumbly and began to explain the whole story, of being contacted by a long-lost cousin, of a mission into the Silent World, of a fatal bite... Throughout the tale, the crowd of kin-spirits and deities were unspeaking, until Tuuri, in a cracking voice, recounted the terrible voices, and finding the inhuman rash on her own skin, and taking her life into her owns hands to spare her friends that awful burden. The same friends who were now stranded in the Silent World without the use of a tank or radio. Tuuri’s father placed one defensive arm around her, and once Tuuri’s words had stopped flowing entirely, they all remained in solemn contemplation. At long last, Tuonetar spoke.

“So that is why the swan was forced to fly so far to fetch your soul. Five lives alone in long lost worlds…”

Tuuri recognised the Queen of the Dead’s rhythmic speech and alliterative words as the beginnings to a runo. While the skald had been privy to hear many mages chant and sing in her short lifetime, hearing it from a such a powerful being was something new entirely. Usually people prayed to the Gods. This time, it was a Goddess making a prayer of her own. The very air around Tuuri changed, and she felt her flimsy form being tugged up by an invisible gust, re-invigorated with life energy and carried into the air.

“…five lives who fleeing fears go swiftly. Your time of thirty days extended, now go five times to fix what’s threatened.” Tuonetar finished her spell and lowered her hands from where they had been extended in the air. Tuuri heard the sudden beating of great wings behind her as the ever-watching swan took off from the river, scooping Tuuri’s tiny soul up in its wake.

As Tuuri felt herself carried further and further away from Tuonela, she heard the Swan speak in the Queen’s voice:

“You said wished that someone on the other side was looking out for you. Now, Hotakainen daughter, you can be that someone. To guide and to guard, watch over your brethren well.”

The young skald felt the gravitas of the opportunity she had been given. As her vision and senses faded away, Tuuri promised with all her heart that she wouldn’t waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfiction in, well, forever! I'll upload chapter 2 in two days, if you want to see what adventure Tuuri is about to be sent on!
> 
> Let me clarify a few things:
> 
> Now, I don't believe Tuonetar was really in the business of granting wishes. In fact she seems, in what I've read at least, to really rather people stay put in Tuonela, alive or not. However! Since the population got so small- very small indeed- I expect things have become pretty boring in Tuonela. I know at least that I would want some entertainment, perhaps in the form of granting wishes to very sweet little birds, if I didn't have anything to do for the next couple of centuries.
> 
> "Before Tuuri was given a chance to explain herself, a sudden ringing pierced her ears." What is this supposed to mean?  
> Well! They say if, when crossing into Tuonela, you hear ringing in your ears, that it's actually the sound of your family calling out to you.
> 
> "Your time of thirty days extended," Eh??? The same source I was using for all my Finnish mythology needs (of which there are sadly not enough written in English!) suggests that it was believed that newly-dead people would have about a month after their death wherein they could pop back-and-forth between Tuonela and the mortal realm, to go check up on their family and such. Tuuri's given her 30-40 days of this up, in exchange for the opportunity to do... well... you'll see! ;) 
> 
> Okay, I'll stop spamming now! Please please please leave any thoughts you have as comments, I'd really like to know!
> 
> -Lueley


	2. New Beginning

Tuuri was awake and falling.

Her body felt… more solid, than it had done in Tuonela, but definitely different to how it had felt when she was alive. The air rushing past her skin seemed like it should have been cold, and yet Tuuri hardly felt it at all. She opened one sleepy eye.

She was hurtling through an abyss of blue- twinkling stars all about her and glassy water reflecting her below. Swirling mists obscured the horizon, and Tuuri thought she could make out the shapes in the fog: the silhouettes of trees- slender birches that reminded her of home; ripples on the water from something dark lurking below; a tall, loping figure running carefree across the surface of the boundless sea…

Tuuri didn’t have time to process what she’d seen- only feeling a brief pang of emotion, the sense of recognising someone she knew- before she slammed into the water.

In an explosion of golden light and the smell of gunpowder filling her nose, Tuuri burst into the world of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter today but it would mess up the pacing if I didn't make it its own "transition" chapter. This is the shortest chapter of the whole story, so please don't worry: part 3 is literally over 10 times longer than this one.  
> In fact, I feel a bit bad uploading so little. I wanted to keep a regular 2-day update schedule but I'm almost done editing chapter 3 anyway, so I might upload it a day early?  
> -Lueley


	3. Västerström

Emil looked like he’d seen a ghost.

In fact, he had.

Standing in his dingy Mora apartment, dripping wet and dressed in a uniform which Emil hadn’t seen in nearly two years, was Tuuri Hotakainen.

Though he’d come to accept the existence of magic over the most recent years of his life, Emily had certainly never begun to believe in ghosts. And yet, here, having appeared right out of thin air-

“No, Emil, you’re being stupid. Remember what the therapist told you.” Emil quickly turned away from the pale apparition of his long-dead friend, carefully talking only to himself. Thinking aloud was a trait that all that time around Lalli had trained into him.

Lalli…

Emil span back around to face his visitor-from-beyond-the-grave. He’d face one unpleasantry over the other. “You! You’re dead! You’re a trauma-induced hallucination!”

Tuuri, who was beginning to recover from her own shock at her very-sudden appearance, looked at Emil with wide eyes. She was caught between being happy to see the Swedish cleanser and feeling terrible about the pain that her passing had apparently caused.

“Trauma-induced hallucination?”

Suddenly, Emil darted towards her and grabbed her in a tight hug. She was soaked through and smelt like seawater. Emil felt her wet clothes dampen his own. It was if she’d been pulled straight from the ocean in which she had drowned on that terrible night. Emil gripped her tighter.

“Gods, Tuuri, you have no idea how much… even if you’re imaginary, I’m so glad to see you,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’ve- we all have- missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry that I had to leave.” It was all Tuuri could think to say.

Emil finally released his old friend from his arms and realised that he had just hugged a ‘hallucination’. Though the logical side of Emil’s brain told him that she was just a figment of his imagination, Tuuri seemed so… real. The rational-ish Swede looked at the floor. The water dripping down Tuuri’s boots was slowly forming a little puddle on his uneven kitchen floor.

“So, uh, would you like to sit down? We can _fika_ ,” he suggested, motioning at a small jar of precious instant coffee. He didn’t often offer such an expensive drink to houseguests, but Tuuri- real or not- was a hell of a lot more than just an ordinary houseguest.

Tuuri peered around the small kitchen, lowering herself onto a wobbly stool.

“Your apartment is, uhhh, cozy,” she offered with an awkward smile. Emil laughed flatly.

“It’s awful. But it’s the best I can afford in Mora on a junior cleanser’s salary,” he explained, filling the kettle.

“I bet in Finland the same kind of money would buy you a mansion. Maybe you should live there instead!”

It had been a joke, but Emil went silent, staring pensively into the middle distance as he froze still for a moment. Then he blinked, forced a laugh, and carried on setting some water to boil.

“Yes, I’m sure it would.” His reply came in a careful voice. Tuuri noticed her friend’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the kettle tightly.

Time to attempt to a subject change.

“Well, I love what you’ve done with the place! It’s so nice to be in a proper building, after all this time spent in hellish conditions!”

After a horrified look from Emil, the ghost corrected herself. “Not like that! I meant having to live in our cramped little tank! I’m not talking about the afterlife, Gods no, I’d barely even arrived before they sent me back here.”

Emil’s sigh of relief was visible.

“So there really is something waiting for us after death, huh?” He laughed at Tuuri’s eye-roll. Her very presence questioned all his pre-conceived beliefs as a _‘Godless Swede’_. “What do you mean they sent you back?”

By the time the Tuuri had more-or-less explained the nebulous mission her spirit had been sent back for, the pair of ex-crewmates had drained their mugs of weak coffee entirely. Emil listened to all the ghost’s claims earnestly, a pensive expression drawn on his face. Clearly over the two years since Tuuri had died, something had made him become more open to idea of the supernatural.

“So, you’re, like, a guardian angel now? And you’re going to visit five times?” Tuuri shrugged. The instructions really had been incredibly vague. Emil tried again:

“Will you be visiting me each time?” Tuuri shrugged again.

“I really have no idea. It would be nice, though.”

Emil stood up, taking their cups and putting it in his already-full sink, promising himself that he’d wash them later but knowing that he probably wouldn’t.

“Well, I’m not really in danger or anything right now, so I don’t know what you’re supposed to do for me…” He cast his eyes around his very-unglamourous flat. “Hm. I guess we can figure it out later. In the meantime: have you ever been to Mora? I could show you around.”

Tuuri’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! Yes please, I mean! I’ve always wanted to see Mora, last time, after the train, we didn’t really see it properly, we only really passed through…”

Emil grinned at his successful idea and set about finding a spare coat for his friend, though he wondered if her spectral form could get any more soaked than it already was by the ghostly seawater she was slowly drying off from.

He had only just given the overcoat to Tuuri, though- sacrificing the use of his nice woollen one, leaving himself with his worn and torn Cleanser’s jacket- when she froze in the doorway to the living room. Emil followed her wide eyes to the hastily packed suitcases lying abandoned by the door.

“Emil, I hope I’m not interrupting. Are you going somewhere?”

Emil went quiet once more and stuck his hands in his pockets. 

“No, don’t worry about it. I changed my mind. Let’s go.”

Tuuri raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think so.” She plopped down stubbornly on Emil’s lumpy sofa and motioned for him to do the same. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Emil looked like a kicked puppy but sat down anyway. “Look, it’s just… agh, it’s stupid.”

The young man buried his face in his hands, but he could still feel Tuuri’s concerned gaze on the back of his head. She wouldn’t let him go until he told her.

“There was- this is a guy, and…”

Sitting on the tiny sofa made him feel claustrophobic. Emil leapt up and began to pace the room, but Tuuri remained carefully quiet. Emil couldn’t stand silence, and after all those months stuck together in a tank, Tuuri knew this and used it to her advantage- after a few long seconds, he began to rant again.

“I’m absolutely hopeless Tuuri. No matter how hard I try to be competent, I always mess things up… my job, the expedition, time and time again I make mistakes. Whereas he’s so… impressive! The kind of guy who excels at everything he does! And he knows so much about the world, and real life- the kinds of things my crummy tutors never taught me. Someone like him and someone like me could never…” Emil kicked the over-packed suitcase with his foot.

“I always make stupid decisions, like joining the cleansers, or going on that mission even though I could have died- Gods, like you. I was about to make another stupid decision, but for once I actually managed to stop myself.”

As if out of breath from his emotional speech, Emil flopped back down onto the sofa beside Tuuri and let her put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know who this guy is, but I’m sure he’d be lucky to have you,” she said softly. “You’re a great guy, Emil. If he doesn’t see that, he’s stupid.”

That wasn’t the right choice of words. Emil groaned again.

“He’s not stupid! It’s me who’s stupid! I barely even speak his language, I’ve been trying to learn it as a surprise, but I’m really bad, and I was about to run away from home and show up on his doorstep unannounced, in a foreign country, where I’d only mess up his routine and get in his way and- I don’t even know if he likes me!”

 _Oh_ , Tuuri thought. She hadn’t considered that Emil’s mystery-guy could be a foreigner. It made sense: over three quarters of the world’s population lived in Iceland, so the chances of falling in love with an Icelander were pretty high. Of course, Emil’s inability to speak any other language, save the few words of Finnish Tuuri had once taught him so long ago, would make things harder for him, but it didn’t mean all hope was lost. She’d seen people make it work before.

“I don’t think that’s stupid. I think it’s romantic.” Emil shot her an incredulous look. Tuuri jabbed him in the arm. “No, really! Learning a language all on your own, just to surprise your sweetheart! He must be really special to you, huh?”

“…We’ve been through a lot together,” Emil murmured.

“Have you considered that maybe he feels the same way about you? Some people just aren’t as good as sharing their feelings.”

Emil was unconvinced, but Tuuri carried on, hoping he’d see her point.

“I mean, I grew up with Onni and Lalli!” she cried. “You know, Lalli’s favourite food is _vispipuuro_ , yet even though we lived for a decade in the same house, I never knew it. For years he’d eat it with this blank expression, I thought he hated the stuff! One day I asked him ‘why do you eat it if you clearly don’t like it?’, and he just gave me one of his disappointed looks and said...” she began to imitate Lalli’s soft, light voice. “He said: Tuuri, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have been putting up with it all this time.”

Emil fell into quiet contemplation, and Tuuri continued her parable in a quiet, encouraging voice. “What I’m trying to say, Emil, is that sometimes people don’t like to wear their hearts on their sleeves. You have to ask them outright.”

As the story sunk in, and Tuuri saw Emil’s eyes gradually begin to brighten. The same reckless grin that Tuuri had seen so many times bloomed across Emil’s face. It was the grin he used to wear when he came running back from blowing up a troll’s nest, high from excitement and drunk on adrenaline.

“Yeah… yeah! Maybe you’re right!” Emil smothered her in another hug, before making a mad dash for his suitcase, beginning to stuff in even more woolly jumpers. “I’ll go and ask him after all!”

Tuuri beamed. It was great to feel useful, even after everything that had passed. Except…

“There’s just one thing, before you run off to a foreign country, Emil Västerström. You said you were going to show me around Mora first, and this might be my last chance.”

Emil softened.

“Of course.” He offered her an arm, trying his best chivalrous smile. “You know what, Tuuri? hallucination or not, I’m glad you came. I think you may have just changed my life.”

If Tuuri had been paying attention as Emil unlocked his apartment’s front door, instead of congratulating herself on helping her friend in a time of need, she might have realised how wrong her assumptions had been about the identity of Emil’s mystery-boy and her Icelandic expectations of him. However, she wasn’t paying attention, and didn’t even notice the dog-eared Finnish textbook sticking out of her lovelorn friend’s luggage.

Emil certainly didn’t mention it to her. It felt disrespectful. Instead, he smiled and turned to her. “Let’s go see Mora, then.”

Tuuri wouldn’t get a chance to capitalise on that offer. The second her foot touched the ground on the other side of the door the world opened up around her like a portal, and she was gone.

Emil was left slack-jawed and suddenly alone in the corridor.

***

A faint glimpse of the starlit dreamworld from before, air screaming through her ears, then the overpowering smell of hay and sawdust. Before she even had a chance to breathe, Tuuri was spat out once more into the world of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, a day early, as promised! Tuuri makes her first visit to the living world, and gives Emil a helping hand... seems she doesn't know who else's life she might have just changed as a consequence.
> 
> Let me know what you think of it! I live for feedback :D
> 
> -Lueley


	4. Madsen

It was raining again. It always rained here.

Mikkel had long since grown used to Finland and its terrible weather. He’d found it much too cold in the winter, and much too hot in the summer. All the time spent labouring outdoors on the small Saimaa island only made matters worse. He was never one to complain though, certainly not when hadn’t even been invited there in the first place.

Onni had been very obviously annoyed when Mikkel came to stay, and Lalli seemed put off by the giant-of-a-Dane following him home after such an endlessly long and troublesome adventure together. However, Mikkel and his domestic instincts couldn’t bear to leave the Hotakainens to themselves. It seemed to him that Tuuri had been the glue that held the family together, and he saw how they would flounder without someone to look after them. It had only seemed right that Mikkel stay around to keep and eye on them, helping out with what he could and trying to keep the two mages from going completely feral.

Mikkel had been their univited helper for the better part of a year now: he was proud of his work in assisting them in their move from Keuruu back to Saimaa, cleaning their house, and making sure they ate at least three meals per day. Mikkel had always been a mother-hen type of character, and secretly quite enjoyed looking after the two grumpy Finns, even while juggling his time between them and his job as a farmhand on the same island.

Like all of Mikkel’s jobs however, he had eventually been fired. Not only from his job as a farmer, but also from his job as the Hotakainen housekeeper. Someone else had moved in with the two men now, someone who could take care of the them- or take care of Lalli at least, anyway- in a way that Mikkel simply couldn’t, and frankly, _didn’t_ want to.

At least once he left he would have a newfound appreciation for soundproofing. It seemed that houses in Finland were built with very thin walls indeed…

Mikkel didn’t want to continue this line of thinking any longer and brought himself back to the miserable present. He was standing alone on a rain-soaked pier, not having a clue of where to go or what to do. He’d expected a ferryman of sorts to be here, but instead had found a hastily scrawled-on piece of paper that was rapidly disintegrating in the rain.

Mikkel squinted again at the incomprehensible words of the language that he hadn’t picked up a word of during his stay here.

“ _Olen… kipeä…_ ” he sounded the first few words out loud, trying to see if hearing them spoken might jog his memory. As expected, it didn’t work.

As was not expected, however, was the voice that replied from behind him:

“Oh, are you? How terrible.” The voice was familiar- and the Mikkel felt shock turn his blood to ice when he realised where he had last heard it, his sudden startled jump causing him to nearly fall off the pier. Behind him, wearing a familiar white uniform and warm smile, was Tuuri Hotakainen.

To any passers by, the two solitary figures on the pier- one a lumbering hulk of a man, the other a tiny woman with an amused smile- might have just looked like a normal reunion: two old friends greeting each other after a long time. How wrong they would have been.

“I- Tuuri? It can’t be...” Mikkel forced his mouth to shut.

Tuuri smiled awkwardly and walked over to stand beside him, peering out across the hazy grey of rain and still lake. The scene was as eerie as Tuuri’s presence.

“Emil said he’d seen your ghost, but I thought he’d gone mad,” the Dane continued. At his words, Tuuri looked back to him inquisitively.

“Ah, do you know how long ago that was?”

“Just a few months ago, I supposed.”

The long-dead Finn looked puzzled and shifted uncomfortably.

“It only felt like seconds to me.”

Mikkel, as wise as he was, had no knowledge of how the passing of time worked after death. Instead of advice, he offered Tuuri a hug. His ghostly crewmate accepted it graciously, and they stayed like that for a while, the cold Finnish rain beating down on their backs.

“What are you doing in Finland?” Tuuri asked at last. It seemed she’d immediately recognised the tell-tale landscape of her home country.

“Right now? Trying to find a boat ride home. But it looks like the ferryman isn’t here, so I’ll come back tomorrow.”

It was something Tuuri had always liked about Mikkel: his calming, go-with-the-flow attitude to life. It had helped her stay collected during so many sticky situations on that fateful expedition. Now, however, as her eyes slid over to the piece of paper nailed to the pier’s mooring post, she had a chance to help Mikkel.

“Ah, don’t give up so soon!” She seized the crumbling notepaper in her hands. She’d always loved translation work, and this might have been her last chance to do it.

“Let me see, it says: ‘ _I’m sick. No boats from this pier until Sunday. Go to the other side of the island, Antii is taking grain to Vasaransaari for me before dinnertime.’_ ” Tuuri looked eagerly to Mikkel.

“What time is it?”

“About 3pm.”

“Then you still have time! You’llbe able to get a boat to the main port from Vasaransaari, too!” Tuuri’s excitement was palpable.

The unlikely pair- a Dane and a ghost, both entirely out of place on the small Finnish island- ran across the small village as if pursued by an invisible troll. Mikkel’s lungs burned; it had been a long time since he had run like this. His life had been very much a peaceful one since the expedition had returned, and Mikkel’s definition of ‘peaceful’ did not include running.

It turned out that their maddened sprinting had been necessary, however. They caught Antii in the nick of time. The young fisherman stopped loading bags of grain into his boat for a moment to raise an eyebrow at the strangers stood panting for air on the small dock, before asking if they wanted a ride in his boat.

“Just him,” Tuuri explained. “He doesn’t speak Finnish… I think. Can you help him find the boat that will take him back to the capital?”

Antii didn’t really consider himself a babysitter- and this enormous man didn’t look like the sort that might need babysitting- but nevertheless his sense of rural hospitality won through. He nodded silently and signalled for Mikkel to start helping to load things in the boat. Tuuri pushed him towards the pile of a grain sacks with a grin and a thumbs up.

“Thank you for all your help, Tuuri,” Mikkel began, heaving a package from the large pile on the pier and passing it on to Antii for the latter to secure onto the boat.

“My pleasure,” was her earnest reply.

By the time Mikkel had turned around to say goodbye properly, however, Tuuri had vanished into thin air- leaving Mikkel just as perplexed, yet grateful, as ever.

If Tuuri’s sudden absence had been troubling to him, Antii didn’t show it, instead taking the boat’s oars into his hands and beginning to row, musing to himself in incomprehensible Finnish:

_“Hey, aren’t you that big Danish man that Samu fired last week? Well, I don’t know what you did but it takes a lot to make Samu angry. Maybe it’s because you’re a heathen Dane, huh? Oh well. I heard there’s a visiting Norwegian General on the same boat your friend wanted you to get. Maybe they’ll offer you a new job instead…”_

Mikkel didn’t listen, and he definitely didn’t understand. Instead, he found himself lost in thought, wondering when the next time would be that Tuuri might appear to one of her old crewmates again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! I wonder who Lalli's 'friend' could be...  
> See you on Friday for Part 5 ;) and please, as ever, feel free to comment! I love hearing what you have to say.  
> -Lueley


	5. Eide

“Hurry up, dear, or we’re going to miss the wedding.”

Mikkel, of course, was right. The boat onto which he was currently herding a small horde of flame-haired kids would be the last one leaving Norway in time to make the changeover for the Finnish ferry. Sigrun was glad that she wasn’t the one having to interpret the bureaucratic hellhole of poorly translated timetables; Mikkel had been nearly beside himself with stress while booking the family’s tickets.

“Don’t worry, I’m nearly ready,” Sigrun called out to her husband as he passed their youngest child, little Turid, back to her. Sigrun held the cooeing baby against her hip as Mikkel hauled the rest of the luggage up the gangway.

It had been seven years now since Mikkel had arrived out of the blue in Dalsnes as their latest replacement healer, and those seven years had seemed like a lifetime. Hell, for their children, it was a lifetime. Sigrun had, of course, already offered Mikkel a job in her unit, but his dedication to assisting the mourning Hotakainen family had derailed that plan, and before Sigrun had even noticed, the pair had eventually drifted and lost contact with each other.

It was a terrifying notion that they never would have found each other again, if not for a very unlikely set of coindences: Sigrun’s own General Larsen visiting Finland during the same year as Mikkel, and happening to leave the country at the exact same time, on the exact same boat. The ferry ride had been very long, and Sigrun's boss was a very friendly guy; it had only been natural for him to offer the only other Scandinavian-language speaking passenger a job with his unit.

Though fate had blessed her, a myriad of different futures could have awaited Sigrun, and, if not for that “chance” encounter, none of them would have included Mikkel. It was a thought that made her shudder.

Of course, Sigrun knew that none of her life so far had been determined by so-called “chance”. As a modern-day viking warrior, Colonel Eide (her new rank, as of this sumer) was always mindful of the acts of the Gods, and- if what she had heard from Mikkel that day seven years ago was true- the influences of the dead. After all, it was more than just luck that had allowed the Dane to catch the fateful boat in time. Even Mikkel, a god-cursed Dane, had come to see that there were at least some kinds of supernatural entities acting upon the world; his entire life had changed after a mysterious encounter with a long dead friend. Perhaps it was due to this new-found spirituality that Sigrun’s husband was now waiting patiently for Sigrun to make her last-minute prayer for safe passage.

“Hail Njord,” the troll hunter began. “You, the rich and generous, you, the keeper of the seas and bringer of the bountiful. Let our voyage across your waters go safely…” Sigrun was well-practised in making hasty prayers, usually right before battle, yet she decided to take her time a little more with this one. She’d even prepared a small offering of Akvavit to use as flattery, which she now poured reverently over the edge of the pier. After all, her entire family would be on board this ship; their safety would rely entirely on the Sea God and his favour. _And_ this truly was a wedding that she didn’t want to miss.

She was so engrossed in her prayer, that she didn’t even notice when the waters beneath her feet began to stir.

Perhaps Mikkel, too, if he had been less distracted by a sudden squabble between two of his children, might have spotted what was about to happen. But he didn’t.

Instead, nobody was watching, and nobody noticed, as a lurking sea-beast began to surface below the fire-haired Colonel standing unaware on the pier. The unseen creature unfurled one slimy tentacle, which snaked its way up and along the pier, poising itself to latch around Sigrun’s ankle and jerk her in one fell swoop into its waiting jaws below. The oozing limb was just about to take hold of its unaware victim when-

“Sigrun!”

Sigrun jumped at the sudden, frantic cry- in the same motion noticing the terrible creature that had been about to attack and leaping back beyond its reach. Baby Turid cried out as the salty, rotten smell of the sea monster reached the mother and daughter’s nostrils, and the shocked troll-hunter thrust her baby into the safe arms of Mikkel who was still standing, frozen by shock, on the boat.

“ _Fy faen!_ That _jævel_ nearly killed me!” Sigrun shouted, whipping out her trusty knife. Mikkel, though his face had turned white as a sheet, was present enough to quickly cover the ears of the closest available child at the sound of his wife’s roaring cussing.

Already the shore-watchmen, alerted by the Colonel’s yelling, had opened fire on the beast- which was now sinking, dead, back into the water- and were running over to check for casualties. Sigrun barely heard them, however, as they asked if she was alright and apologised for their failure to detect the perilous beast. Instead, she was staring, wide-eyed at something far more important.

The sight of a short figure, who she had glimpsed for just a moment among the throng of tall Norwegian soldiers on the shore. She immediately recognised the woman, matching the young face to the all-too-familiar voice which had shouted her name in warning just moments before, alerting her just in time…

Sigrun’s eyes fixed on a fuzzy head of ash-blonde hair that blazed silver in the midday sun, visible for only a split-second before it vanished without a trace amidst the shifting crowd.

She’d only seen her ghostly friend for less than a heartbeat, but the apparition’s brief presence told her all she needed to know, as Sigrun, adrenaline wearing off, hurried onto the boat to hug her children close to her.

It was Tuuri. The same Tuuri who, unaware or not, had caused Mikkel to come to Norway. The same Tuuri who she had never forgotten, forever grateful for reuiniting her with her now-husband. The same Tuuri who she had named her youngest daughter, Turid, after. Tuuri who had indirectly changed Sigrun’s life. Tuuri had just- directly- saved Sigrun’s life.

Forget Odin, forget Njord. Tonight, she would be raising her glass in thanks to someone else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel appears again, but he's a bit older now. And though Sigrun has already been affected by a knock-on effect of Tuuri's influence, now Tuuri has DEFINITELY changed her life. I wonder what the kids' names should be 😁- if anyone has any suggestions?
> 
> -Lueley


	6. Árnason

Tuuri was beginning to finally understand the unspoken laws that governed her spiritual visits to the living.

Each time she’d materialised in the waking world, she’d been faced with an old friend: one of her crewmates. And each time, she’d helped them in some way, giving advice, or translating something, or shouting a warning. Perhaps this was what Tuonetar had meant when she promised that Tuuri would have the chance to ‘look out’ for someone.

The visits were never very long, of course- but still, it was chance to say goodbye.

To Tuuri, it had felt like no time had passed at all since her death, but the ageing of her friend’s faces between each visit suggested that for the living, several years had now gone by. She remembered with a shock at the new lines that had appeared on Sigrun’s face, the few grey hairs that now smattered her fiery hair, and the small herd of children that had been standing between her and Mikkel.

Tuuri wasn’t given the chance to dwell on it on the implications of her friends and family growing old without her. Without warning, the water which she had been walking on suddenly became like water again, and Tuuri fell through with a great splash.

***

The ghostly Skald barely recognised the figure in front of her.

Coming to understand her new abilities in death, Tuuri could now sense the traces of other spirits around her- not the calm, sleepy spirits of Tuonela, but bright, colourful ones that bubbled with life- as well as, somewhere far away in the night, the lurking threat of tortured souls trapped in the Rash’s fate-worse-than-death

These twisted beings were far away though, and so many more exciting souls were close by.

The house’s architecture was clearly Finnish, but nonetheless this she felt the familiar essences of her Scandinavian ex-crewmates within it: in another room, the warm, bombastic glow of Sigrun’s soul, and Mikkel’s cozy domestic aura, and some young spirits that she could only recognise as a childlike mixtures of the two. Drifting down through the rafters above her, she caught the sense of more- the golden smoke of Emil, and someone else… an energy powerful yet gentle, someone that carried the smell of crisp snow and lightly-scented pineforests… someone familiar, but so much more matured and at peace than she had known during her life: Lalli.

The thought of her little cousin, who’d been like a baby brother to her, growing older than her was almost too much to bear. Tuuri eye’s began to feel hot and she forced her attention to the other familiar mage, who was currently slumped over a table in front of her.

Her cousin was not the only one that had changed since Tuuri’s death, that much was clear. Tuuri knew the spirit in front of her so well, conjuring up memories of endless days spent trapped in the metal confines of a cat-shaped tank, desperately trying to ward of the boredom together… but the body in which the spirit had been contained was so _different_ now.

He was still tall and lean, but where he had once been gangly, maturity had filled him out. The man almost looked like a stranger, dressed in a formal suit, bowtie hanging loose and untied around his neck, and staring into a cup of tea in the empty kitchen. What was most shocking to Tuuri, however, was the complete and utter absence of a braid dangling down his back.

“Reynir?” Tuuri was uncertain whether it even was truly him.

The solitary young man snapped around to face Tuuri- and those unchanged wide green eyes, framed by soft red waves of hair, confirmed to Tuuri that it really was him.

Reynir leapt up and immediately crushed Tuuri in a hug.

“Tuuri! By Odin’s beard, it’s been such a long time!” Reynir released her from the hug to take a joyful look at her, and Tuuri nearly blushed as the now-significantly-more-attractive Icelander drank in the sight of her. He folded her back into the height-mismatched hug. “I was wondering if you’d even come see me at all.”

“So, you know that I’ve been visiting everyone?”

“Well what do you think we write about to each other! All these sightings of you over the years have been the most interesting letters I ever got! Well, almost. The invitation to come here was pretty shocking too- seeing as we’ve been penpals for years, one of them might have at least mentioned that they engaged, let alone dating? I’d noticed that they were both using the same return address on their mail, but I just assumed they were roommates, as in, best friends! Sorry… I’m rambling,” he cut himself off.

Tuuri laughed at the fact that Reynir’s old blabber-mouthed habits had remained, even despite the physical changes to him. She was glad for it, of course. The dead Finn had been worried her friends would irreconcilably different after all these years… how many, in fact?

“Ah, Reynir, how long has it been exactly?” Tuuri asked through the hug, gently removing herself from her old friend’s arms.

“Since your last visit? Well, Sigrun said she saw you as she was boarding the boat to get here, so only a week I expect. So unlucky you didn’t come sooner though! You only missed the wedding by a day!”

Tuuri didn’t have a reply. Reynir had clearly forgotten she wasn’t at all clued up on “current affairs” and continued to talk about some unnamed couple and their new marriage. She wondered vaguely who Reynir, Sigrun, Mikkel, Emil and Lalli might all have in common, to all be attending the same wedding. She’d have to ask before she left.

“And we did a toast to you, you see, it was beautiful really,” Reynir continued to ramble. “It was the first time the whole gang have been together in years, possibly even since your funeral, I can’t believe I haven’t seen them in so long… _oh!,_ ” Reynir suddenly burst into tears and buried his handsome head in his hands. “It’s so aw-awful!”

It dawned on Tuuri that maybe Reynir had been drinking something a bit stronger than just tea.

“Hey, don’t cry… what’s wrong?” Tuuri began rubbing his back. Years ago, she would have been the drunk one crying at the end of the night, and Onni the person consoling her... _Gods, Onni_. Her eyes scanned the room for any leftover bottles. It had been a long time since she’d had any glorious Finnish vodka.

There was no alcohol to be found though, and Reynir continued to blubber.

“What’s wrong, buddy? Why do you feel sad?” Tuuri asked again, stroking his scarlet hair.

“It just d-dawned on me… it’s been _so_ long since we were all together, me and the guys… Sigrun and Mikkel, Emil and Lalli… they all sa-saved my life _countless_ times on the expedition, and I saved theirs: we were supposed to be blood brothers! But I haven’t seen them face to face in years!” Reynir began to wipe his eyes and his voice turned apologetic. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be whinging about all this to you.”

“Trust me, Reynir, I think it’s what I’m here for,” Tuuri laughed to herself. “Would you like some water?”

“I… yes please.” Reynir seemed almost back to normal now, and Tuuri supposed he must be one of those people who are really good at pretending to be sober until suddenly they’re not. Nevertheless, she found the sink and a clean-ish glass (one of the many left out from the mystery wedding) and brought Reynir some water. “Gods, it’s four AM. What am I even doing awake?”

“You looked pretty lost in thought,” Tuuri suggested. “When did everyone else go to bed?”

“Lalli and Emil left… a while ago. I don’t remember when Sigrun and Mikkel went.” Reynir shook his head. “It really was a great day. I’ve missed them all so much.”

“And that’s what’s been getting you down? That you don’t see each other in person anymore?”

Reynir nodded sheepishly and stared into his glass.

“Why don’t you just, uh, ask?”

“You think I didn’t try that?” It turns out the new Reynir was capable of being snarky- or almost, seeing as he immediately apologised. “Sorry, it’s just… I used to write everyone so many letters, inviting them round, asking if I can visit, and they always found excuses. I was way too eager back then. It’s embarrassing.”

“Hmm.” It didn’t come as a shock that the naive Icelander had continued to slightly annoy her companions after the expedition. “But you’ve changed now, and so have they.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if everyone had such a great day together today, I bet they’re thinking the same thing. Why don’t you ask again?”

Reynir’s cheeks went a little bit pinker and he shifted uncomfortably. Tuuri grabbed his hand.

“I mean it, Reynir. You’re a great guy, I always thought that when I was... I’m sure they’d love to have your company.” When the red-headed mage turned back to face her, Tuuri could see that his eyes were sparkling hopefully in the dim lamplight.

“You really think so?”

Tuuri couldn’t resist the cheesy response:

“I _know_ so.”

Reynir’s frown lightened into a smile, and he wrapped Tuuri in another hug.

“Thanks. It can’t hurt to ask one last time, I guess.”

Before Tuuri could reply with encouragement, however, she felt the world before her fading away into the familiar mists of the dreamworld. Reynir’s arms still faintly around her, Tuuri could smell sheep and feel the cool air of rolling Icelandic hills around her as she passed through the mage’s dreamspace. Then, like sand slipping through his fingers, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! I'm not so sure whether I pulled off grown-up (and also drunk) Reynir, but I tried my best! Poor old guy, he just misses his friends.  
> In other news, I'm going to London tomorrow so I'm really excited! Chapter 7 coming on Tuesday :D  
> -Lueley


	7. Mages' Dreams

Water splashing beneath her feet.

Running across the foggy plain of undisturbed water.

Trees growing out of nowhere around her, then the sounds of gentle brook.

Tuuri crashed into an invisible wall, then phased right through it.

Two men, who’d been sitting on a rock in quiet companionship, leapt up at once.

“What the hell was that?! Did something get in?” One of the men yelled to the other.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a troll…!” The taller one’s reply came muffled through a sleeve.

Neither of them looked at Tuuri, their arms up over their eyes in a defensive block. A blue-ish glow crackled off them, shining ethereal on the two men’s shared ashen hair. The tall one edged closer.

“Spirit, tell us who you are and I can guide you to—” the tall figure’s breath caught in his throat as his glowing blue eyes met the wandering spirit’s, just as Tuuri’s eyes began to adjust to the dreamspace around her.

“…Tuuri?”

Two sets of pale eyes met Tuuri’s own, and she realised she had found herself face to face with none other than-

“Onni…!” her reply came as barely more than a choked whisper.

Onni’s eyes began to tear up as he ran to fill the gap between him and his little sister. Lalli, so much older than the scrawny 19-year-old she’d last seen, followed closely behind. The sight of her baby cousin now looking almost as old as their parents had been when they’d died filled Tuuri with unease. However, the two boys who Tuuri had grown up with- now men- were overjoyed to finally see the long-dead missing piece to their tiny family. How they’d changed. Onni had cut his hair short, and Lalli had grown his long enough to fall against his shoulders, and both of the two had a lot more stubble on their faces than Tuuri was used to.

Onni’s hug swallowed her up and Tuuri didn’t even need to decide it was the best hug she’d received during any of her numerous ghostly reunions. There was crying, and laughing, and overjoyed greetings.

Finally, the three Hotakainens sat down on the rocky perch on which, Lalli informed her, Onni like to sit in deep contemplation while he slept.

“I guess I’ve missed so much of your lives, huh,” Tuuri sighed, looking once more at her much-older sibling. “Ten years, you said?”

“Since you… left for Tuonela,” Onni confirmed.

“I’d ask you to tell me everything that’s happened but there’s probably too much, right?”

Lalli laughed as Onni nodded with a tired expression.

“I got married,” her cousin offered with a sly grin.

“No way! I thought you’d be living alone in the forest forever!” He’d clearly anticipated that this information would shock Tuuri and drew great delight from her incredulous stare: she couldn’t imagine anyone falling for Lalli, or indeed, him falling for anyone else.

“Oh, I still do live in the forest, but in a house now,” Lalli grinned. Tuuri had never seen her cousin so… open. She personally wanted to thank this mystery spouse for bringing him out of his shell. Lalli continued. “I should thank you actually, apparently it only happened because you convinced-“

Suddenly Lalli froze up, and his body began to fade translucent. Tuuri was sure she could almost hear a child’s voice calling out to him from the waking world. He smiled apologetically at his cousin and waved goodbye. Then, in a poof of air, he was gone.

Tuuri’s eyes were wide with shock and Onni patted her arm reassuringly.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed, he just woke up is all.”

“Oh, I see. Will you be waking up too?” Tuuri asked carefullyShe wanted to spend as much time with her brother as possible. Onni squinted out at the horizon, which was beginning to take on a pale pink dawn glow.

“Not yet, but soon,” he said, a display of Onni’s classic- though entirely faked- stoicism.

“Good. I’ve been missing you.” Tuuri leant against her brother’s shoulder. Though her senses had been muted through everything else, her brother felt so perfectly warm. Suddenly, his eyes took on a pained expression and he craned his head to look at her.

“Tuuri. They say you’ve been coming back like this… for over ten years now…” he swallowed painfully. “You know as well as I that the departed are only supposed to linger for a month or so.”

Onni set his jaw. He never enjoyed guiding souls to rest. It was a painful process, more so for them than for him. And now his little sister was still out here, nearly ten years since that horrible day.

But he’d bear it. For her.

Onni looked at Tuuri with pitying eyes. “Tell me… did your soul never make it to Tuonela?”

He looked like he was about to cry. Tuuri’s panic at the sight of her brother’s tear-filled eyes froze her for a moment before she rushed to correct his assumptions.

“No, no, I went to Tuonela! I flew for miles with the swan, and met the ferrywoman, it was so…! It was just like Grandma had told us- and Grandma was there! And Mum, and Dad, and Lalli’s parents too- all waiting for me, for us…”

Now Onni really looked like he was about to cry.

“Tuonetar sent me back, Onni. She said I had a role to play in your lives, or the lives of my crew, that is. That’s why I’m still here. That’s all. Please don’t worry about me.” Tuuri saw her brother’s expression begin to soften with relief. “I was given five visits, she said. And I’ve had four. So that means…”

“I probably won’t see you again.” Onni's voice was solemn.

“Yeah…”

Onni placed one firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. It was… devastating… to lose you, Tuuri. But we’ll see each other again in Tuonela. I know it.” He pulled her into a hug, and Tuuri couldn’t tell which of them had finally burst into tears.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Onni,” Tuuri whispered.

“I know you will.”

Then Onni woke up, and the beautiful world that had been built up around him vanished with him.

Tuuri was left, once more, alone- but this time, a smile lingered on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 7, which means this is nearly over ;-;. I didn't realise how much fun I would have doing this! I'll definitely keep writing. In other news, I'm super ill :(
> 
> Anyway, I couldn't end this story without Tuuri saying a goodbye to her precious brother! Onni is too protective, he'd probably charge into Tuonela just to give her a hug.
> 
> See you for the ending on Thursday!  
> -Lueley


	8. Hotakainen

Tuuri clapped a hand to her mouth.

She’d been _sure_ , as she crept into the dark bedroom, that she’d sensed Lalli’s spirit through the closed door- but now, standing over the sleeping figure of a fur-clad stranger, she was realising that she most definitely was in the wrong room.

For starters, the figure lying before her was a _girl_. She might have had the same high cheekbones, the same familiar smell of the forest stuck to her skin, and the same catlike way of sleeping curled up in a ball, but she was definitely not Lalli.

Weak moonlight washed over the room, casting dappled shadows on the sleeping teenager’s hair- revealing a striking shade of blonde, as if someone had poured out honey and ash upon the pillow. Her hair was still tied up in a ponytail, as if she’d fallen asleep the moment she sat down the bed, and Tuuri now noticed that she was even still wearing her boots.

She strained her new supernatural senses, trying to make out the other souls lying in slumber nearby. There, in the next room, were Sigrun and Mikkel’s familiar heat signatures, and the two in the next room, though they were now far, far older than she rememebered, Tuuri recognised as their children.

Casting her ghostly vision further through the house, Tuuri saw- or rather, sensed, as if she was gently brushing each person with her fingertips- Reynir. Tuuri smiled a little. It seemed his desire to spend more time with his old friends had been met, if they were now all gathered to sleep under the same roof.

The ghostly Finn was about to throw her senses forward to search the rest of the house when suddenly an ice-cold prickling sensation overwhelmed her body. Tuuri’s stomach dropped like a stone. Somewhere lurking outside the delicate walls of the house was an abomination.

No. More than that. Something… _things_ … bloated and squelching, hauling themselves out of the lake’s silent waters and dragging themselves on the water-logged remnants of limbs that had once been human arms and legs- or perhaps humans’… three, no- four- sickening giants were closing in on the house.

“No!” Tuuri didn’t even recognise her own voice as she stumbled forward in shock- lurching right into the sleeping teenager.

The girl’s eyes opened in a flash, illuminating the room like daylight as they bathed everything in a piercing blue light. It was an intensity of magical power known only to one very specific family in Finland…

The young mage choked on her breath as she too sensed the terrible creatures that had encircled the house. It was too late to run now. And too late for even the first rule of ‘stand still, stay silent’: the girl was up like quicksilver and throwing herself out of the room.

“ _Isä_!” she shrieked. “ _Pappa_!”

Tuuri, through her own experience, knew that the house full of veteran troll-hunters and mission personnel had been through enough harrowing encounters to have been forged into light-sleepers. As the girl darted through her bedroom door, brandishing a mage’s knife that had been lying on the windowsill, Tuuri saw that the other inhabitants of the house were already up and stumbling out their bedrooms to follow her.

They’d seen Tuuri, all of them- the long-dead Finn knew as much from the brief, shocked eye contact she’d made with the both the young girl and her old crewmates. But everyone knew, whether aware of the specifics of the threat outside or not, that something much more pressing was happening. Sigrun’s bellowed cry to ‘rally up!’ echoed through the house in a cacophony of shouting.

Tuuri followed the mage-girl as she scampered through the house like a wild hare runs after a shot, twisting through the old cabin to find the parents she’d been calling for in bizarre mixture of Finnish and Swedish.

“Lumi?! What’s wrong, what’s happening?”

Tuuri recognised the voice before the saw the person come crashing, shirtless, through the door. He was older faced, slightly scruffier, and his eyes were wide with fear: Emil.

Following closely behind, ignoring the others entirely and dashing down the stairs to face the horrors outside with a glowing knife clamped between his teeth, was Lalli.

In another circumstance, one where the lives of everyone she knew and loved were not at stake, Tuuri might have laughed and slapped her forehead. Emil’s angst over a foreign lover, the wedding everyone had attended, Lalli’s mysterious spouse... _of course_. It all made sense now.

No time to think about it for the moment, though.

Lumi, as the girl was apparently called, was explaining in a frantic multilingual babble the impending attack, and Sigrun, grave-faced, had caught up to them- leaning in with a battle-scarred face framed by greying hair- trying to parse the incoherent report. Reynir, Mikkel, and two flame-heared young adults were following quickly behind, and Sigrun motioned for them to arm themselves with what ever was closest.

In under a minute, Tuuri’s five old friends, and their new families too, were formed up outside under the dark night sky- the grotesque giants, twisted fusions of countless Rash victims, loomed over them.

No matter how brave the combatants, some battles can only be lost.

Lalli and Lumi joined hands and began to chant a runo together, eyes screwed tightly shut with concentration. Reynir followed suit with a desperate plea to Odin, to Freya, to Tyr- to whoever might be listening- with Sigrun and the other Norse-God-fearing members of the party joining in, even Mikkel, to Tuuri’s surprise. Emil, seemingly torn between the two religions, simply muttered a curseword and lit up a grenade.

One grisly claw descended, and all hell broke loose.

Tuuri crouched down low, hands clamped over her ears, unable to block all-encompassing screaming of the tortured spirits trapped within the beasts: rage-filled shrieks, agonised wails and bloodcurdling cries assaulted her from all sides. Tuuri had no weapon or fighting prowess to aid her friends by. She was just a ghost, years separated from her own time, useless and scared as she watched the people she loved most in the world fighting for their lives. Brilliant arcs of blue light and explosions of flame streaked across the starless skies as Lalli, Emil and their daughter defended their small home. On the other side of her, Sigrun and her clan warded off death’s grasp with swinging swords, the clang of metal, the dull thud of knife on bone. Reynir dashed back and forth before the homestead, throwing out his hands as if crazed, now hissing a curse through gritted teeth, now roaring pleas for divine fires loud enough to out-compete the thundering howls of the writhing trolls.

Tuuri was no mere mortal anymore. Her eyes could see more than she had ever thought possible. On that mission, during that fateful battle years ago, Tuuri had seen a troll face-to-face. A troll, all mutated flesh and pulsating skin, but nothing more than that as it sunk its teeth into her shoulder and sealed her tragic destiny. Now, however, she truly saw. With a spirit’s vision, Tuuri looked beneath the perverse and corrupted external form squirmed a mass of souls, moaning in pain and begging for an end.

“We’re so sorry,” the souls cried. “We can’t help it, we have no control…”

If things had gone differently, if she had waited too long, Tuuri might have known this suffering herself.

Tuuri was barely aware as she began to walk towards the heaving giants. She found her feet walking without command, her hand rising up as if to touch…

These were Finnish souls, souls like hers. The purifying sense of understanding cleared the anguish in her mind. Serenity filled her. The swan’s voice whispered in her ear.

“It’s time to go, little bird.”

 _It may be time to go_ , Tuuri silently grinned. _But I refuse to go alone._

Her faintly-glowing hand made contact with the oozing skin of the nearest troll. The flesh burned under Tuuri’s own with a hiss and the sickening smell of cooking meat. The giant pulled back, but Tuuri’s grip- imbued with something more than physical- was too strong. Under her grasp, it shriveled, and began to wither. Her crew, struggling to ward off the rest of the creatures and on the verge of losing entirely, didn’t quite notice as Tuuri’s troll began to stumble about and perish. Only the mages among them were able to see the freed souls begin to pour out of every orifice, every noxious pore. A flock of blue-shining birds taking off from the sagging corpse, swirling out in the sky and gathering tightly behind the wings of a lone crimson swan circling high up above.

Tuuri smiled as the spirits slipping past her fingers whispered their thanks. Lumi stared slack jawed and Reynir’s eyes were open wide. Only Lalli spoke, turning his head from where he stood steadied against another giant, conjuring up an invisible shield with outstretched hands.

“Tuuri…” he murmured, just as shocked as the other two mages. His brow furrowed with thought for a half-moment, before the grim resignation that had previously painted his face morphed into bright-eyed hope. With a flick of his head, he motioned to the troll that he was struggling to hold off.

Great minds think alike, they say: the same thought dawned like a lightbulb in Tuuri’s mind.

Lalli’s cousin nodded and darted forward, repeating the same motion that she had done before. As her skin made contact with the giant’s gnarled flesh, it cried out in agony, and after a few heartbeats of anticipation had passed, also began to wither and wilt. Tuuri grinned. More and more souls joined the growing flock in the sky, and Emil- not seeing the spiritual exodus above his head, but still able to watch the trolls collapsing one by one around them- grinned with relief. Sigrun clapped a hand across Tuuri’s back as her little crewmate dashed past, saving her old Captain at the last moment from a giant’s snapping jaws.

“Whatever you’re doing there, fuzzy-head, keep it up!”

Finally, the last creature fell to the ground with a squishing thud. Tuuri’s comrades and friends stood panting over the shrunken husks, drunk on exhilaration and the rush of surviving the impossible. After a moment of silence, Reynir rushed over and scooped Tuuri up in a hug, practially squealing with joy. Within seconds, the rest of the likely and unlikely warriors had joined him, even Mikkel and Sigrun’s kids and Lalli and Emil’s daughter, despite having never met the mysterious ghost themselves. All nine of them bundled up tightly into a group hug, which devolved into a shivering, teary mess as the adrenaline wore off.

The skald-turned-hero couldn’t savour the moment for very long. Soon enough, she heard an expectant cough from overhead. Or as close to a cough as a swan can manage.

Tuuri wiped a joyful tear from her eye and pulled back from the crowd of friends- no- family. This would be her last time seeing them. Her lip trembled. It had seemed easier last time, as impossible as that seemed. Lalli, the Lalli she had known for so long as a boy, now nearly unrecognisable as a grown man, withdrew his arms from where they had been wrapped around his husband and daughter.

 _Ah,_ Tuuri thought. _He knows._

“You saved our lives,” he spoke, with the solemness that only a mage can possess. “Do I need to guide you back?”

Tuuri gave him a soft smile and shook her head. She raised her eyes to the swan that only the mages among them could see, the others looking on in quiet confusion.

“I’ll find my way. Don’t worry.”

The tugging sensation pulling her upwards was like a magnet, and Tuuri gave into it. To the mortal world, before her final words had even died away in the cool night air, Tuuri Hotakainen faded out of existence for the fifth and final time.

Feeling her soul rising gently into the sky to join the flock of ghostly birds waiting for her, Tuuri gave her last, silent goodbye to the world of the living, looking down at the mages on their ground and seeing that they had raised their hands in silent salute- or maybe a wave bidding her farewell. Tuuri laughed as she finally let her tears fall heavily down her face.

She’d been given a chance to save her friends, and she knew with all the happiness in the world that she’d fulfilled her final wish.

She'd been a damn good Guardian Angel, too.

* * *

_The End_

A little drawing of Lalli and Emil's daughter I did, for anyone interested :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I want to say thank you for the fantastic support you've given me as I write this, it's been a really encouraging start to what will hopefully be many more (better written?!) fics to come 😁.
> 
> The above drawing is a quick sketch I did of Lalli & Emil's kiddo, I find it really useful to draw new characters before I write them.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, any and all feedback is welcome.  
> All the best,  
> -Lueley


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